The Truth About Hollywood

My whole body went stiff, my blood running cold in my veins. "She..." I couldn't even get the words out of my mouth, the words sticking to the sides of my throat.

Dad put a reassuring hand on my shoulder and nodded. "It's okay though. We'll get through this. We will." His words seemed to be an attempt to comfort himself rather than me.

I hadn't even noticed that we were home; I was in that much of a daze. "Be quiet when you go inside," Dad warned me. "Mom's sleeping."

Following his directions, I tip-toed up the front steps and into the house, making sure to leave the door open behind me for fear that I'd pull it closed too loudly. Immediately, I disappeared into my room, where everything finally finished settling in my brain.

Mom...could die... After how much we fought and disagreed, I still loved her. She was my mom, after all. I never thought that anything would happen to her, though I supposed that was what all teenagers and kids say when something bad happens to them. It was the truth though. The biggest tragedies are also the biggest blindsides.

On my dresser was an old picture of Mom and me on our trip to Disneyworld when I was seven. It was before Mom and I started disagreeing, the differences and clashes in our personality starting to manifest. We were a happy family back then.

I just let the tears flow, occasionally letting out a sob or sniffling, with the picture in my hand before I dropped it back on the dresser and looked at my red and puffy face. Wiping it angrily and drawing in a shaky breath, I lied down on my bed and stared at my blank TV.

After turning it on, I let the soft sounds of a Full House everything-is-okay-now speech lull me to sleep, wishing that real life could be like that.

***

The next morning, I woke up to my bedroom door being opened. I blinked a couple of times, feeling how stiff my eyes felt from the salt buildup. I must have been crying in my sleep.

Gia was standing there, a look of helplessness on her face. Her eyes registered something when I looked at her, as if what she'd learned wasn't totally real until she saw how sad my reaction was.

"I'm so sorry," she expressed, her voice breaking at the end. "Your dad told me."

I didn't say anything. She walked over to me and threw her arms around me, whispering that I would be fine, just fine. There was no way that anything bad would happen to me.

But wasn't this bad enough?

***

The rest of the week, I did everything mechanically, trying to pretend that my life hadn't taken a nosedive. Mom was fine.

It wasn't as convincing as I thought it was though. Even I could tell that I was emotionally detached, which wasn't like me at all. Mom could even tell those few times that she came out of her room.

"Claire, babe, you have to cut it out," Mom scolded at the end of the week. "I know you're upset. We all are. But the world is not over. I still have a chance."

"It's not operable, Mom," I argued. "You're going to die."

"Thanks for the encouragement," she replied, her voice losing its strength. "You know, this is a time when family encouragement is the most important thing. It's not helping me at all that you're walking around the house like a friggin' zombie."

With that, she shoved her chair away from the table and ran back upstairs. I leaned against the counter and put my head on my folded arms, sighing deeply. I just couldn't do anything right, no matter how hard I tried.

At dinner that night, everything was quiet and awkward. Dad didn't know the argument that had happened between Mom and me, and frankly, I didn't think that he wanted to know. He knew that life between Mom and me was always dramatic.

Finally, when Dad was washing the dishes, I turned to Mom, who was facing away from me pointedly, her arms crossed in front of her chest. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Sorry for what?" Mom was the kind of person who didn't accept an apology unless the person spelled out exactly what they did wrong.

"I'm sorry for telling you that you were going to die and having no hope. I'll work on it." Mom smiled, but I continued, knowing that I was probably going to ruin the mending that I'd just done, but I just needed Mom to understand. "You gotta realize that I was in shock though. It's not every day that a kid gets told their mom has cancer. It's a humbling experience, knowing that there are just some things out there that I can't control."

Mom patted my arm. "It's okay." She stood up and walked upstairs, complaining of a headache. As I sat at that kitchen table, I hoped that chemotherapy would help. It would nearly kill her, make her lose all her hair, all the personality that she had...but maybe it would get rid of the cancer too.

After Dad finished the dishes, he kissed my forehead and hurried up the stairs. For a while, I stared off into space, kind of thinking about my current situation before going into the living room and watching TV for a little while.

***

In all the confusion that had been going on, I completely forgot about Darwin High. It just took a back seat in my life. That was...until I got the phone call.

"Hello?" I asked, picking up the phone lazily on the third ring.

"THE SHOW GOT PICKED UP!" Levi's voice screamed at me over the phone. His excitement told me that I was the first one he called and that he'd just gotten the news.

It took a second to process what he meant before I squealed. "Really?! That's great!"

"So be to the studio at nine tomorrow morning, and we'll start filming episode number two!"

I was about to say bye when there was a click over the phone line. I guess he was just excited to get the news out to the rest of the cast.

Satisfied and excited, I threw myself onto the couch, grinning wildly. Then, I was about to run up the stairs to tell Mom that the show got picked up...

But then I remembered that she and Dad were at the hospital, and Mom was getting her first round of chemotherapy.

The reality of the situation washed over me again, and my spirit just deflated. Why did all this have to happen at the same time? It was like...I was happy about the show being picked up, but then I felt badly about being happy and about not being happy at the same time.

Ugh, I was just an emotional rollercoaster.

I planned to tell Mom about the good news when she came home from chemo, but when she walked through the door, I saw how much of a mess she was. She had a slight greenish look to her skin and looked extremely weak. Immediately, I clammed up and watched as my father assisted her in walking up the stairs and into their room.

It was strange, seeing her so weak like that... It was going to take some getting used to.

Later, when my dad came down the stairs, looking wiped, I told him that he had to drive me to the studio in the morning because I had to film. I said it just like that, simply and without excitement.

Dad nodded. "Okay, sweetie," he agreed, putting a hand on my shoulder before walking into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

I had a feeling that he hadn't even heard me.